


In His Light

by LNL



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Fix-It, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 15:47:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19112809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LNL/pseuds/LNL
Summary: A rewriting of the love scene from episode 4 of season 8 with the same lead-up. Obviously another ending is implied, because, you know, fuck that.





	In His Light

**Author's Note:**

> I have never written fanfiction before but such is the power of D&D’s terrible million dollar budget fanfiction that I had to rage-write something. I had to try to do justice to the first night these characters spend together. Since honour is very important to both of them I figured they would not have sex before marriage, but they would certainly find a way to work around it. After all there’s not only one way to consummate a relationship.
> 
> There are references and quotes from the books and previous episodes, but I have only read excerpts from the books so far. I quoted a part of Jaime's line from the Weirwood dream to imply that he can now see Brienne's inner beauty (in his light she is a beauty, so to speak). The very last line is a reference to a quote by Charles Bukowski.
> 
> English is not my native language so let me know if any wording sounds off. 
> 
> Bitter Braime stans of the world, UNITE.

The hour is late at Winterfell. Dim lights flicker on ancient stone and somber wooden doors. Only the calm crackling of lanterns and the wailing wind outside would be heard if not for a lone figure traversing the corridors, mumbling to himself. Jaime Lannister’s steps seem to be guided by an inner compass as he busies himself with the conundrum at hand. He tastes the words under his breath.

”Lady Ser Brienne of Tarth…Ser Lady Brienne of Tarth...Lady Ser Maid Brienne...of Tarth.”

He comes to a halt and all efforts to adhere to formalities drop. He knows his steps have lead him to the door he seeks without glancing to his left. _What use are titles at this hour and at this place? Call her by her name._ The thought hardens his resolve as a steady sigh escapes him.

On the other side of the door, Brienne’s eyes are fixed on the shining blade of her sword. A piece of oiled leather slides along it with a slight metallic ring. In these moments she feels the sword is singing to her, as if grateful for the care. As if it knows they are bound together for life. _It will always be yours._

But then there is a knock at the door, and her peaceful reminiscing is changed to confusion.  _Who would seek me out at this hour?_ Oathkeeper is slid back into its scabbard and hung on its place by the fireside, glinting in the flames. She opens the door, and as she meets the gaze waiting for hers on the other side she has a second to hope that her eyes do not betray the emotions shooting through her.

He says the practiced line with feigned ease.

”Brienne. I couldn’t retire for the night without making sure an unescorted lady under the influence had returned safely to her chambers.”

_Brienne?_ She frowns slightly as her eyes flicker over Jaime’s face, searching for intent.

”I think you may have overestimated your tolerance for Dornish wine, Ser Jaime.”

”I think you may be underestimating my flair for galantry”, comes the swift parry.

Brienne does not parry back. She waits for him to state his business. She does not sense how his resolve flutters under her calm blue eyes.

”How is your evening?”, is all he can muster.

The familiarity of the line takes her aback, and she has to drop her gaze to the floor. Almost unbeknownst to her she moves back into the room and he takes this as a tacit invitation to follow her. 

”I was just polishing my sword. It’s still as sharp as the day you gave it to me. You may inspect it if you’d like.”

They stand stiffly by the fireplace with Oathkeeper between them. The steel is still glinting in the fire and to Jaime it seems to almost wink conspiratorially in his direction, like a receptor for all his secrets.

”Do the Stark children know that the two halves of their father’s sword were wielded in battle the other night?”

The thought hasn’t occurred to Brienne and her brows crease with regret. She feels deeply for the Starks. Jon and Arya could have died without the comfort of knowing that this remnant of their father was close by as they fought for the living.

”I suppose they don’t.”

”Don’t they deserve to know?”

She can tell it is not an accusation but a genuine concern.

”You could tell Lady Sansa yourself. She would make time for you after what I told her at the trial.”

_His trial._  Jaime smiles inwardly. All those honourable deeds tracing back to this one woman, proudly listing them by his side, boldly facing his enemy.

”It was rash to lay your life on the line for the Kingslayer, especially in front of a Targaryen.”

Brienne appears lost in thought, still gazing at the sword. With fondness she recalls an even rasher decision made to save her life, all those years ago. 

”At least I didn’t jump into it empty-handed.”

They find each other’s eyes as the memory passes between them. 

”The fire needs tending.”

As Brienne puts more wood on the fire Jaime sinks into a chair. His presence is fixing itself firmly in her chambers and Brienne is acutely aware of it. She trails aimlessly toward the opposite wall, not knowing what to make of this evening. 

”I apologise for my brother, he doesn’t usually bring a lady’s maidenhood into question but he gets even cruder when he drinks. You are still a maiden, I hope?"

Brienne turns and cocks her head at him, but Jaime only raises his eyebrows in response. He expected an indignant reaction and is pleased when it is delivered so readily. 

Brienne takes the bait.

”Who in Winterfell would have laid claim to my maidenhood?”

More feigned ease. ”The wildling bred on giant’s milk seems to think he has a fair claim.”

She scoffs. For a moment it is as if all the men who have ever crossed her path with dishonourable intentions have materialised in the leering image of the wildling. Her voice is low and terse as she turns away. 

”I’d rather never know a man than suffer the advances of one brute.”

”He’s certainly no Renly Baratheon.”

Brienne reaches the end of her rope. There’s no attempt to hide the incredulity and confrontation in her voice.

”Are you really here to discuss my maidenhood, Ser Jaime?”

In the next moment she reels inwardly at the seemingly hurt expression that passes over Jaime’s face where he sits, persisting in becoming a fixed element in her room.  _He must be toying with me._  A note of pain lingers in his voice when he speaks up, but it is impossible for Brienne to judge its sincerity.

”Have I still not earned the grace of being called only by my name, Brienne?”

A thought coldly sweeps through her as she glances at the golden arm resting on the chair. 

”Are you here to settle a debt?”

He had not expected this. Unlike in the presence of another woman he had known, he had almost forgotten the heavy chunk of metal underlining his disfigurement. He moves it as if to test its weight for the first time. 

”What debt? Do you think I miss the man who lost this hand? I’ve gained more than I’ve ever lost since that day.”

The gravity of his words are lost on Brienne in her resolve to press on.

”Do I take it you happen to enjoy hanging around the chambers of lone maidens?”

Jaime understands that she will not be dissuaded. He nods to himself and slowly moves to his feet. With his eyes on the floor he does not notice the flicker of fear in Brienne’s face as she lingers by the wall, facing him. He slowly moves toward her as he lets his thoughts uncoil at her feet.

”I was actually wondering…since there’s no one else to ask…unless I live to knight other women…when a lady knight goes into battle, does it ever cross her mind that she might die never having known a man? Does she fear death in those moments? Does it add an edge of frenzy to her fighting? Does it make her cry out in her sleep at night?”

At these last words he stops a few steps away from her, straightening his back. There is an edge of defiance to his words and his stance. Brienne knows he is now close enough to hear that his words have made her breathing uneven. She tries at the very least to control her voice.

”I’m resigned to not knowing a man.”

”Just like you were resigned to never becoming a knight?”

Another swift parry. As he moves an inch closer his voice deepens, as if reaching her from one of her many dreams. 

”There are ways to to know a man and still keep your maidenhood.”

Everything around them has become impossibly still. Brienne brings herself to search Jaime’s face for intent once more, but only finds his eyes searching her back, bracing for her reaction to the implication in his words. She can’t accept the vulnerability in his pained expression and steels herself ever so slightly.

”I will not be the target of any more cruel jokes.”

There is a hint of a smile before he answers.

”My Lady, you do me a disservice.”

His next words are merely a husky whisper, and the hinted confession behind them prompts him to look down. 

”Have you not thought about it?”

Brienne flinches as if in pain. She can’t deny the sincerity in his voice. In the ensuing silence there is a tacit understanding between them that they have both conjured up each other’s faces in private moments; that they have both closed their eyes and brought back hazy memories of each other’s bodies in the baths of Harrenhal. Brienne recalls the trust he bestowed on her then and decides she has a debt to settle after all, with interest.

”Give me your hand.”

Her movements are infinitely deliberate as she rolls up the sleeve of his shirt to remove the golden hand, knowing full well it gives him time to look at her. He is in awe of how so much tenderness and strength can harmonise in one person. When he speaks again his words are as deliberate and weighted as her movements.

”You know, in this light, you’re…”

The hand drops to the floor with a sharp clattering sound as she pulls his arm to her lips. She kisses the soft skin beneath the healed cut with a tight grip and realises that it is an expression of gratitude and sorrow for his loss as much as a confession of love.

Jaime reads this in her face as he is brought up close to her. When her lips leave his arm he plunges upward with his hand on her neck, balancing on his toes for one moment to reach her mouth.

The built up tension of many years crashes in on them as they kiss. Brienne is painfully aware that she has never kissed anyone as she tries to follow Jaime’s lead, her lips a little too firm, her tongue moving a little less lithely than his. When they pull away she blushes with equal elation and embarrassment as his hand cups her face, her gaze on the floor. It touches him how a powerful knight such as her can emanate so much innocence. It excites him almost as much as the fact that he will be the one to free her from it.

”I’m sorry I don’t know how to kiss you.”

”You’ll learn.” 

He doesn’t need to ask her to undress them both. How things have changed since he mocked her about wishing he could fling her down and tear off her clothes all those years ago. Jaime wonders if she still remembers, but then she stretches out naked on her bed with such expectancy in her eyes that he forgets everything else.

Brienne is fascinated by his body’s response to her. Her kiss and her womanly shape has made him grown as hard as he can get, but he will wait.

_She has waited long enough. I have one more gift._

Jaime takes his mouth to her breasts and she writhes underneath him in response, reminding him yet again of her strength. He marvels at how responsive she is when his kisses reach down between her parted thighs and the touch of his tongue causes her to arch her back. It doesn’t occur to Jaime to compare her taste to the only one he has ever known. The past was mere practice for this night and all the rest of the nights they will have together.

Brienne allows herself to moan out loud and gingerly responds to his tongue’s movements with her hips, running her fingers through his hair. Her legs fall open a little more as she relaxes under him. Jaime had thought the other day how the wind running through his hair could be Brienne’s fingers. Now he knows what that feels like. What all of her feels like.

His soft moans between her legs is what finally sends her. As Brienne comes for the first time with a man she still has the presence of mind not to crush him between her powerful thighs. She bucks and squirms but Jaime does not take his mouth off of her until the spasms have abated. Before she has fully caught her breath she pleads with him.

”Teach me how to do that for you.”

He gives her a warm smile and lays down beside her, a flutter in her stomach as she takes in his beauty in its entirety. She pauses to stroke his face and return his loving gaze before reminding herself what his lips taste like. Her fingers trace over his softly heaving chest and brushes against the pent-up tension between his legs. Jaime trembles at the touch.

”It’s yours.”

She gently grips his cock and bends down to kiss it lightly. Jaime is almost grateful for the endearingly clumsy way she then takes him in her mouth. A few slight rasps of her teeth prevents him from letting go too early. Brienne has never pleasured a man with her mouth before, he has to guide her with moans and whispers. When she moans back in response he tenses up ever so slightly. His entire being becomes focused on making the moment last. As much as he’d like to watch her he sometimes has to close his eyes to avoid being overwhelmed. The sight of her reverentially exploring him for the first time is almost too much. It is pleasurable enough knowing it’s her mouth on him and no one else’s.

When he finally has to let go, a strained groan from the effort of holding himself back escapes him. Brienne watches him move with the waves crashing through him until he is entirely spent and completely still.

They fall asleep on their side, Brienne’s arm enveloping Jaime from behind. In the middle of the night she feels him pulling her tighter to his chest, sighing with relief in the quiet of the chamber room they now share.

"Jaime? Why did you come for me tonight of all nights?"

"I dreamed of you."

_In each other's arms, Death will tremble to take us._

 

 

 


End file.
